In Dreams
by Miss Learmont
Summary: There is one who could unite them,
1. The Council of Elrond

**Title: In Dreams**

**Author: Chandramukhi**

**Rated:**** PG**

**Chapter 1:**** The Council of Elrond**

**[-×.×-]**

**E**lrond of Rivendell gazed upon the eyes of those gathered at his Council. Many had come…Men…Dwarves…the Elves of Mirkwood…even Gandalf the Grey had arrived, at his side sat a young Hobbit, whose blue eyes shifted nervously from prying eyes.

"Strangers from distant lands, friends of old..." he began, addressing the Council sternly. "You've been summoned here to answer the threat of Mordor. Middle-earth stands upon the brink of destruction. None can escape it. You will unite or you will fall."

He took a breath, before continuing. "Each race is bound to this one fate, this one doom."

He then turned to Frodo. "Bring forth the Ring, Frodo."

The young Hobbit looked around hesitantly before walking forward and, placing in plain view of all present, a circlet of gold.

Murmurs sprang from all present, as Elrond bowed his head, and Frodo returned to his seat beside the wizened Wizard.

"So it is true...," one man was saying. "The doom of men...it is a gift."

All eyes turned to him.

Boromir of Gondor stood, his eyes lit by a strange fire. "A gift to the foes of Mordor! Why not use this ring?"

He paused, well aware that all were staring at him in sheer puzzlement. Elrond shifted slightly in his seat, surveying the man carefully.

"Long has my father, the Steward of Gondor, kept the forces of Mordor at bay. By the blood of our people are your lands kept safe," Boromir continued carefully, his voice ringing with the passion he felt for his people. "Give Gondor the weapon of the Enemy. Let us use it against him!"

"You cannot wield it! None of us can," spoke one of the Men, a Ranger with a rugged look about him. "The One Ring answers to Sauron alone. It has no other master."

Boromir turned slowly, to face the Ranger, contempt blazing in his eyes.

"And what would a Ranger know of this matter?" he sneered, his voice reflecting the contempt visible in his eyes.

All eyes turned as a young Elf stood abruptly.

"This is no mere Ranger," spoke Legolas, son of Thranduil, King of Mirkwood. "He is Aragorn, son of Arathorn. You owe him your allegiance."

There was a stunned silence, as Boromir looked between the sitting Ranger and the Elf standing before him. Elrond registered the look of disbelief on Boromir's face as he regarded the Ranger, dressed in poor cloth, a strange ring perched on his finger.

"Aragorn?" Boromir repeated, his lip curling. "_This_ is Isildur's heir?"

"And heir to the throne of Gondor," Legolas finished firmly, his eyes shining with defiance.

The Ranger, Aragorn, raised his palms. "Havo dad, Legolas," he said softly, the Elven tongue sliding easily out of his mouth.

Legolas obliged, eyes still fixed on Boromir, who still was surveying Aragorn sharply.

"Gondor has no king," he said finally, taking his seat. "Gondor needs no king."

A hooded figure sitting next to the Ranger stirred.

There was a heavy silence. Finally, Elrond cleared his throat.

"Aragorn speaks no lie," he said finally. "It is clear that the greatest of you even could not resist the allure of the Ring. We cannot use it in battle against Sauron. Even now, he is awake, and is building an army so large, I fear if the Ring would fall to his possession, his victory would be so complete, none would remain to remember the existence of the free peoples."

"It is not only Sauron we must fear," Gandalf said in a weary voice. "For Isengard too has been tainted with Sauron's evil presence. With the use of his puppet Saruman, he would build an army unfathomably powerful. Even now, as we speak, Saruman is cross-breeding Men with Orcs and producing a new kind of Orc, ones that can travel twice as fast, and are far more powerful than the Orcs of Mordor. Worse still, this new breed of Orc displays no weakness to sunlight."

"Our list of allies grows ever thinner," Elrond spoke. "The Nine have left Minas Morgul, and have come very close to snatching the Ring away from young Frodo. It is with your help, Aragorn, that the Ring stays in the hand of the free peoples."

"Where are they now?" Frodo asked, a definite fear coming to his voice.

Elrond shook his head. "Word of their location has not met my ears of late."

"They crossed into Mordor not two days ago," came a female voice. "They travel now not as riders in black, but rather, as wraiths on wings. I can only assume they have taken more orders from the Eye."

All eyes turned to the hooded figure sitting beside Aragorn. She lowered her hood, to reveal a fair lady, pale as ice, with long dark hair and a crystalline gaze. Oddly enough, there was something Elven in her features.

"Lúthiel," Elrond said coldly. "I do not remember ordering your presence here."

"Nor do I remember your barring me from this Council," she returned emphatically. "But if it should pain you so much, Lord Elrond, I shall take my leave."

She stood up, a tall maiden clad in white, with a definite silver aura about her.

"I bid you to stay," came the voice of Elrond. "While your presence was most certainly uncalled for, it pains me less to have yet another Dúnedain present at this Council. Tell me, Lúthiel, what have your eyes seen?"

"Dúnedain?" Boromir echoed. He faced the maiden. "You are a descendant of Nùmenòr?"

"Indeed, yes," Lúthiel bowed her head. "I have observed what little you think of us, Boromir, son of Denethor." She turned to face Aragorn. "Estel, I bear grave tidings for all."

Aragorn nodded. "Speak."

Lúthiel faced the remainder of the Council, her voice loud and compassionate. "Mithrandir spoke rightly when he spoke of the wizard Saruman. His treachery far surpasses his power, yet none can match his lust for power. Saruman's eyes turn from the palantir to the stronghold of Rohan. Everywhere, his spies slip past their nets. I have heard word that the advisor to the King Théoden is one they call Wormtongue – Gríma Wormtongue."

Gandalf's face hardened slightly. Lúthiel turned to Gandalf.

"You have heard his name before, Mithrandir," she said simply. "And from your manner, I can only assume that Saruman placed him there. There is growing unrest in Rohan – Saruman's Uruk-hai pillage the villages in the Westfold, and slaughter the innocent restlessly. And around Edoras, I have heard word of the White Wizard. The people speak of him in fear, yet the King blindly believes in him, and they speak of a man with a wormlike manner. He called you Stormcrow?"

"Nay," Gandalf shook his head wearily. "Stormcrow Théoden himself named me. This Wormtongue christened me Làthspell – _ill news_. For ill news is an ill guest."

"So Rohan is in trouble, this we know," Elrond said. "Is there anything else you wish to speak of?"

Lúthiel paused. "I have before mentioned that the Nine now fly the skies of Middle-Earth – wraiths on wings. They are searching for the Ring, and my Lord Elrond, the power of your people cannot conceal it. I saw them cross into Mordor, they are awaiting orders from the Eye."

"You may be seated, Lúthiel," Elrond said. The maiden bowed her head and sat, her eyes downcast.

"Neither can we wield the Ring against Sauron, nor can we hide it now that the Ring has awoken," Elrond continued wearily. "You have only one choice. The Ring must be destroyed."

There was another long pause, as Elrond's words rung silently in the morning air.

"Then what are we waiting for?" came a rough voice. All eyes turned to Gimli, the son of Gloìn, as he stood, brandishing his axe.

Before Elrond could say a word, the Dwarf raced to the front of the Council. With an almighty yell, he brought the axe crashing over the Ring, before –

Frodo gasped, for at the very moment Gimli's axe touched the Ring, an image of a great Eye wreathed in flame flashed upon his mind. He looked back to the front, where Gimli the Dwarf lay sprawled on the ground, shards of iron laying about the ground, the Ring unmarked.

"The Ring cannot be destroyed, Gimli son of Gloin, by any craft that we here possess," Elrond said, a hint of amusement entering his voice. He looked around the room, a new authority coming to his voice as he spoke. "The Ring was made in the fires of Mount Doom. Only there can it be unmade. It must be taken deep into Mordor and cast back into the fiery chasm from whence it came."

There was a pause before Elrond continued. "One of you must do this."

Boromir looked up, his fingers steepled. "One does not simply walk into Mordor," he said slowly, his voice patient. "Its black gates are guarded by more than just Orcs. There is evil there that does not sleep, and the Great Eye is ever-watchful. It is a barren wasteland, riddled with fire and ash and dust. The very air you breathe is a poisonous fume. Not with ten thousand men could you do this. It is folly –"

"Have you heard nothing Lord Elrond has said?" Legolas interrupted, jumping to his feet. "The Ring must be destroyed!"

"And I suppose you think you're the one to do it!" Gimli argued angrily.

"And what if we fail, what then?" Boromir pressed. "What happens when Sauron takes back what is his?"

He jumped to his feet. "I will die before I see the Ring in the hands of an Elf!"

The Elves of Mirkwood jumped to their feet angrily as Gimli roared, "Never trust an Elf!"

The Dwarves had now jumped to their feet, as the two parties threw insults back at each other, Legolas holding back the angry Elves, Gimli blocking the angry Dwarves.

"You fools!" Gandalf called. "While you stand here bickering the power of the Dark Lord grows ever stronger –"

Aragorn slowly rose to his feet, while Boromir faced the angry mob uninterestedly. Lúthiel's eyes, however, were fixed on Frodo, as he gazed at the Ring with mounting horror. Finally, he got to his feet.

"I will take it!" he cried, his voice masked over the tumult of noise. "I will take it!" he repeated, his voice louder.

Gandalf heard him, and closed his eyes sadly. Slowly, he turned to face the Hobbit. The hubbub subsided.

"I will take the Ring to Mordor!" Frodo said, almost defiantly, looking at each member of the Council in turn. "Though," he said, his voice considerably softer, "I do not know the way."

Lúthiel watched as Gandalf walked slowly to Frodo's side, and placed his hand on his shoulder.

"I will help you bear this burden, Frodo Baggins," he said slowly, "as long as it is yours to bear."

Aragorn stood. "If by my life or death I can protect you, I will." He walked over to Frodo and Gandalf. "You have my sword."

Legolas of the Elves stood up as well. "And you have my bow," he said, joining them.

"And my axe." All eyes turned to Gimli as he walked to the company.

Boromir stood up slowly, choosing his words carefully. "You carry the fates of us all, little one," he said, striding closer to Frodo. "If this is indeed the will of the council, then Gondor will see it done." He joined their ranks.

"'Ere! Mister Frodo's not going anywhere without me!" called another Hobbit as he rushed into the room, and joined Frodo.

Elrond sighed. "No indeed. It is hardly possible to separate you, even when he is summoned to a secret council and you are not."

Samwise Gamgee looked slightly abashed as –

"Hey! We're comin' too!"

"You'll have to send us home tied up in a sack to stop us!"

Two more Hobbits raced into the room: Meriadoc Brandybuck and Peregrin Took.

"Besides," Peregrin said, straightening himself slightly. "You need people of…intelligence…on this kind of mission…quest…thing."

Meriadoc turned to his cousin. "Well, I suppose that rules you out, Pip."

Peregrin scowled at him.

"Nine…" Elrond mused. His face brightened. "Nine companions." He took a deep breath. "So be it. You shall be known as the Fellowship of the Ring."

Lúthiel stood. "My Lord Elrond," she said. "I too, wish to accompany them on their quest."

"Ten is one too many, Lúthiel," Elrond said, closing his eyes. "Unless one of these companions will leave their quest…"

"But my Lord –"

"You have my word on this," Elrond said, turning to the unabashed maiden. "You cannot go. You have not the years –"

"Yet Frodo does?" Lúthiel persisted. She took a deep breath. "I very nearly equal Estel in his years and experience," she said, the Elvish coming to her easily. "You do not understand. Either he will ride to his doom, or I shall."

Elrond shook his head and replied in the Elven tongue. "You cannot. It is not your years or experience that sets you apart, Lúthiel."

Lúthiel turned to face the Fellowship, and at once realised what was wrong.

"No," she replied slowly. "It is my gender."

"You are needed here," Elrond continued. "Your presence is required more here than in the Fellowship."

"What can be more important than this quest?" Lúthiel persisted. She turned to face the Fellowship again. "Tell me, Estel," she asked of Aragorn in Elvish, "can I not join you on your quest? Do you at least know of what lies ahead of you?"

Aragorn bowed his head. "I know of what awaits me on the road ahead."

"And yet you will still –?" Lúthiel gave up, and faced Elrond. "I take your leave, Lord Elrond."

"Lúthiel –" Aragorn began, but stopped as she left the Council room.

"Right!" Pippin piped up cheerfully. "Where are we going?"

**[-×.×-]**

**L**úthiel paused, framed impressively in an ornately carved doorway. She glanced into the chambers within. There was an Elf standing in front of a large window, rivulets of dark hair dancing gently in the wind.

"My lady Undómiel," Lúthiel said.

The Elf-maiden turned, anxiety written on every feature written on her face.

"When did you arrive?" Arwen Undómiel asked slowly.

"Just this morning," Lúthiel answered. "Arwen, he is going."

What little colour there was left in Arwen's pale face retreated slowly.

"He is going?" she repeated slowly, disbelievingly.

"To accompany Frodo on his quest."

**[-×.×-]**

**D**isclaimer: What do I own? Nothing…except for Lúthiel – and that too, by a slim margin.

**A**/N: Yes, I know that was crap with a capital C, but…oh well…I never said I was a good writer…at least…not in full senses anyway.

This is my first LOTR fic, and I am proud of what little I have. I just got myself into an all-LOTR streak, starting with a little LOTR-movie-marathon, and I'm rereading The Silmarillion and the Histories of Middle-Earth and such…

Just let me clarify this much: this story will run along the lines of the events that took place in the movie rather than the books. Just goes to show that if you want to tamper with a storyline, better tamper with the storyline that's already been tampered with…hehe…

Also, I know this seemed an awful lot like the movie, but this isn't just a copy, I promise you, there **will** be changes, just not so many in this chapter…__

Please don't flame me!

R&R please!!!


	2. Parting Ways

**Title:**** In Dreams**

**Author:**** Chandramukhi**

**Rated:**** PG**

**Chapter 2:**** Parting Ways**

**-×.×-**

**A**rwen sat weakly. "So he is going?" she said weakly. "Does he know nothing of what awaits him?"

"He knows," Lúthiel spoke resignedly. "Yet he will still ride to his doom."

Arwen looked at Lúthiel desperately. "Is there no hope?"

She sighed. "Nothing is certain."

Arwen sat down on her bed. "I gifted him the Evenstar," she spoke in a voice shy of a whisper.

"My lady!" Lúthiel dropped to one knee, clasping one of Arwen's white hands in her own. "My presence here does not account for nothing. Surely you did not think I would remain here in Rivendell while Estel and the others risk their lives on their journey?"

Arwen met Lúthiel's eyes.

"Do not forget who I am, Lady Undómiel," Lúthiel continued. "If I cannot have Estel stay here in Rivendell, I will not remain here idly."

"Lúthiel…"

She shook her head. "I do not know what is written in my fate, nor what unseen force drives me to do this. But rest assured, I will let him come to no harm."

She stood up, before Arwen's voice stopped her.

"Lúthiel," she said, her voice sad, "I know you will keep him safe but…you will return, will you not?"

Lúthiel's blue-green eyes met Arwen's blue ones. "I do not know so much, Undómiel, but I shall try."

Saying so, she left, her silvery cloak rustling in her wake.

**-×.×-**

**"M**y old sword, Sting… Here, take it, take it!"

Bilbo handed Frodo a sword, perfectly sized for a Hobbit. Frodo held it gently.

"It's so light!" he wondered out loud.

"Yes, yes, made by the Elves you know. The blade glows blue when Orcs are close. And it's times like that, my lad, that you have to be extra careful…"

Bilbo rummaged through his belongings, before pausing to hold up a silvery shirt.

"Here's a pretty thing. Mithril!" He held it up to Frodo, his face beaming. "As light as a feather and as hard as dragon scales. Let me see you put it on. Come on..."

Frodo obliged, and started to unbutton his shirt. Before he had undone his second button, Bilbo caught sight of something hanging on a silver chain. A circlet of gold…

"Oh, my old Ring," Bilbo smiled somewhat nervously.

Frodo watched as a strange convulsing manner lit upon his uncle.

"I should…very much like to hold it again, one last time…" Bilbo asked somewhat tentatively, his eyes fixed upon the Ring.

Frodo buttoned up his shirt, somewhat wary of Bilbo's actions.

A strange fit seemed to come over Bilbo. For a moment so brief, his face contorted in the lustful manner so common of those who had been consumed by the Ring.

And then it was gone, leaving behind an aging Hobbit who looked positively frightened.

"I'm sorry I brought this upon you, my boy," he said mournfully. "I'm sorry that you must carry this burden…I'm sorry for everything..."

**-×.×-**

**T**he Fellowship gathered in front of the House of Elrond, as to bid what would seem like a last farewell. The Elves were gathered there, as was Bilbo. Arwen there was not present.

"You set out upon this journey with the hopes of Middle-Earth upon your shoulders," Elrond spoke in a commanding voice. "With hope you will prove successful."

And then the nine companions set off for Mordor. With Gandalf the Grey in their lead, they left RIvendell, and made for the Misty Mountains. They however, had not taken one pace further when –

"Surely you did not think you could go away without a last word, Estel."

Aragorn paused. There, behind him, stood Lúthiel, her white garb hidden beneath a cloak of Elven grey. Somehow, she looked whiter than before, her long dark hair plaited. Her ears were pointed. Behind her, in the distance, a great white horse waited.

"She's an Elf!" Sam muttered to Frodo.

"She can't be," Frodo murmured back. "She is one of the Dúnedain. Lord Elrond said so himself, and so did she."

"Lúthiel," Aragorn said. "What are you doing here?"

Lúthiel met his gaze. "Surely I could say my farewells?"

To Legolas she bid farewell first.

"It is not farewell for you yet, Prince of Mirkwood," she told him in Elven. "Your skill with the bow will prove useful yet. And you will be a faithful companion to Estel, and befriend those whom you would not expect."

"Nor for you, son of Gloin," she said, turning to Gimli. "Indeed, you have a brave heart, and you too, will aid Estel greatly, when the time comes. Be prepared, however, to lose a great deal close to you, very soon."

She then turned to Merry and Pippin.

"Meriadoc Brandybuck and Peregrin Took," she said, a slight smile coming to her face. "Your part in this tale will come. Your loyalty will set you apart from the rest, and perhaps even from each other. Your greatest hope is to remain true to yourselves."

She looked to Sam.

"Samwise Gamgee," she said, shaking her head. "Where can I start? I can only tell you what Mithrandir has said. Don't you leave him, Samwise Gamgee. You will be cast aside, left behind, misunderstood…the victim of many injustices. But I can only tell you that your loyalty is your greatest virtue."

Turning to Frodo, she looked grave. "My words to you, Ringbearer, are not many. Be vigilant. There are those who wish you naught but ill."

Frodo looked slightly bewildered. Lúthiel next met the eyes of Boromir.

"Son of Gondor," she began. "I can only understand what must be going through your mind. But you will make the right decision in the end, this I know."

"Mithrandir," she next turned to Gandalf. "You know much, being wisest of the Maia. You will choose a great many things, many choices in which the very wise cannot see all ends. But you will emerge victor, know this."

Finally she turned to Aragorn.

"What I will tell you, you already know," she said wearily. "Tread cautiously about those who would wish you harm. You will land in many a great problem, and you will conquer it all, Estel…Elessar…"

She turned back, before Aragorn's voice halted her.

"Stay in Rivendell, Lúthiel," he said softly in Elven.

She turned to face him. "You know I won't," she replied in a stronger voice.

"If I return, the first place I will come to is Rivendell," Aragorn said softly. "Wait for me there."

She shook her head. "If you return, you will not stray from the land of your ancestors," she said wisely. "As for waiting in Rivendell at the end…I cannot say that you will not see me before the end."

"They will need you, in Rivendell," said Aragorn. "Arwen will need you."

"Arwen is strong," Lúthiel replied. "She will not need me."

"You will not endanger yourself," Aragorn firmly said. "Nor will you accompany us. Even you are not as rash as that."

Lúthiel smiled strangely. "The time has come for us to part ways."

She turned back, to where a great white horse awaited the Dúnedain maiden.

She mounted the horse, its coat as white as her garb. Both had a silver aura about them.

"The way south is being watched," she told Gandalf. "You now have two options, Mithrandir: Caradhras or Moria. If you would chance the mountain, beware a foul voice on the air. If you would brave Moria, remember that even the wise cannot see all ends…" She paused, before meeting Gandalf's eyes. "Whatever choice you should make, remember that it should be best for all of Middle-Earth."

"Farewell, Lúthiel," Gandalf said.

Lúthiel's eyes met Aragorn's.

"_Uich__ gwennen na 'wanath ah na dhin_.

_An uich gwennen na ringyrn ambar hen._

_Boe__ naid bain gwannathar.___

_Boe__ cuil ban firitha._

_Boe__ naer gwannathach…_"

She turned away.__

"_Noro lim, Eärendil_," she murmured to her horse. The horse galloped off into the distance.

"Farewell, Lúthiel," Aragorn said softly.

**-×.×-**

**"Aaah!"**

Frodo gasped as he slipped on a snowdrift. The world spun around cruelly as he tumbled head over heels, landing at Aragorn's feet. As Aragorn helped him up, he felt around his neck for the reassuring touch of the Ring.

It was not there…

"Boromir!"

Frodo looked up at the Gondor lord. He held a chain…with a Ring hanging off of it.

_It must have fallen off_, Frodo realized. He shifted. He did not like the look in Boromir's eyes as he surveyed the Ring.

"It is a strange fate that we should suffer so much fear and doubt over so small a thing. Such a little thing..." he murmured, tantalized by the innocent-looking Ring.

"Boromir!" Aragorn barked sharply. "Give the Ring to Frodo!"

Boromir shifted his gaze to the Hobbit, who watched him nervously. Slowly, Boromir made his way to Frodo, holding out the Ring.

"As you wish," he said, attempting a forced smile. "I care not."

Frodo quickly took the Ring from Boromir's outstretched hand. Boromir ruffled his unruly hair and turned away from them, Aragorn watching him closely.

**-×.×-**

**L**úthiel paused, observing a fleet of birds travelling through the sky.

"Crebain, from Dunland!" she murmured to herself, twining her fingers in Eärendil's white mane. "Spies of Saruman!"

She observed their progress in the air.

"They are flying to Isengard," she said thoughtfully. "They have seen Mithrandir and the rest, and they seek to tell Saruman, their master."

The last bird flew by.

"So, Mithrandir," Lúthiel murmured to herself. "You try to lead them over Caradhras. And if that fails, where then will you go?"

She brought Eärendil to a canter. "If the mountain defeats you, will you risk the more dangerous road?"

"I will need a watchman," she told Eärendil. "_Noro lim_!"

**-×.×-**

**"T**here is a foul voice on the air…" Legolas said faintly.

"It's Saruman!" Gandalf spluttered.

In the howling of the wind, a faint voice could be heard.

"_Cuiva__ nwalca Carnirassë!_

"He's trying to bring down the mountain!" Aragorn shouted. "Gandalf, we must turn back!"

"No!" Gandalf said forcefully. He looked up at the raging winds, and attempted a counter-spell.

"_Losto__ Caradharas, sedho, hodo, nuitho I 'ruith_!" he tried, trying to overpower the voice of Saruman.

But his voice came yet again.

"_Nai yarvaxëa rasselya taltuva ñotto-carinnar!"_

A flash of lightning struck the mountain. The Fellowship watched, horrified, as piles of snow began to fall from the peaks of the mountain.

"We must get off the mountain," Boromir said. "Make for the Gap of Rohan, or take the West Road to my city..."

"The Gap of Rohan takes us too close to Isengard!" Aragorn argued.

"If we cannot pass over the mountain, let us go under it," Gimli suggested. "Let us go through the Mines of Moria!"

They froze, in disagreement. Finally, Gandalf straightened.

"Let the Ringbearer decide," he said, turning to Frodo. "Frodo?"

The little Hobbit thought, before answering. "We will go through the mines..."

Gandalf heaved a sigh.

"So be it."

**-×.×-**

**"Moria**," Lúthiel thought out loud. "You fear to go into those mines. The dwarves delved too greedily and too deep. You know what they awoke in the darkness of Khazad-Dûm…"

The great white horse shone like the star it was named after, passing through the shadows of a golden forest. As she reached a clearing, Lúthiel slowed her horse and dismounted, patting the lithe horse.

"Shadow and flame…" she murmured. She turned slightly, her eyes meeting the points of several arrows, all aimed for her neck.

**-×.×-**

**"T**he Walls of Moria!" Gimli cried in awe.

Gandalf strode up to the walls, as he ran a hand over the weathered stone face. A knowing look came to his visage.

"Ithildin," he nodded. "It mirrors only starlight and moonlight…"

All eyes turned to the sky, where the moon peeked through a gap in the clouds. The runes on the door began to glow.

"It reads: _The Doors of Durin, Lord of Moria. Speak, Friend, and enter_."

Merry looked puzzled. "What do you suppose that means?"

Gandalf smiled. "It's quite simple. If you are a friend, you speak the password and the doors will open."

He cleared his throat. "_Annon__ Edhellen, edro hi ammen_!"

The doors remained shut. Gimli grunted sceptically.

"_Ando Eldarinwa a lasta quettanya, Fenda Casarinwa_!" Gandalf tried again.

Nothing happened. The doors still remained shut.

Frodo looked at Gandalf questioningly, as he sat down to think.

**-×.×-**

**L**úthiel smiled disarmingly at the Elves of Lórien.

"You came so silently, I almost did not hear you," she said lightly to the Elf at their head. "_Haldir o Lórien_."

"Lúthiel Aragóra," the Elf bowed his head. "Your coming here was uncalled for."

"Many things are uncalled for in this world," Lúthiel said cryptically. "For the first time since the Dark Days, a Dwarf will enter the realm of Lothlórien. Is that called for?"

"Nay," Haldir said. "It shall not come to pass. But what brings you here?"

"I wish to speak with some of your Elves," Lúthiel said. "Aníron and Saurà, the twin maidens."

Haldir nodded. "Follow me, half-Elven."

**-×.×-**

**D**isclaimer: I own Lúthiel, and that's it for now. Oh, and I own her horse, too…hear that? The horse is mine!

**A**/N: Well, I got that done pretty fast (I think!). Um, I don't have that much to say…the plot will begin to change. I suppose I'll add in a few more characters by the next chapter. Some more strong females, I don't want Lúthiel to be alone…

And, I want to thank my lovely reviewers! Thank you! You have no idea how much your words uplift my morale! Thank you to:

**Angelic Elf – **your comments made me glow! Thank you so much for your feedback!

**unknown**

**dragon-miko**

And to all who may read this…READ AND REVIEW!!!!!


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